


The Muffin Heist

by blackmoonalcolyte (jomipay)



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Carter is a less innocent bystander, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), M/M, Muffins, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Restraint, Sex Favorable Ace, Smut, Voyeurism, the muffins are innocent bystanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jomipay/pseuds/blackmoonalcolyte
Summary: He crept down the stairs and found his target. A plate of muffins sat on the countertop—pristine, undisturbed and utterly beguiling. Carter swiped a couple. He tore a  piece off one and shoved it in his mouth, humming happily as a blueberry burst on his tongue. He absconded with his treasures back up the stairs, making sure to be just as quiet on his return journey. His room was at the far end of the hall and he stalked towards the door with purpose, thrilled with his successful heist.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	The Muffin Heist

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me in a stress fever dream. Sometimes muffins lead you astray, what can I say.

Carter padded down the hallway. It was late and he was relatively positive he wouldn’t be spotted on his way to the kitchen. Zolf had made muffins earlier, he’d smelled them, but Zolf had shooed him away when he’d tried to nab one. He was reasonably sure he wouldn’t be caught now, but they all kept strange hours these days. If Wilde was still awake he was probably squirreled away in his office and unlikely to hear the footfalls of his bare feet. Carter made it to the end of the hall. The last door before the stairs was Wilde’s office. He half expected to see light filtering out from under the sliding door, but it was dark, just the same as the rest of the doors in the hall. 

He crept down the stairs and found his target. A plate of muffins sat on the countertop—pristine, undisturbed and utterly beguiling. Carter swiped a couple. He tore a piece off one and shoved it in his mouth, humming happily as a blueberry burst on his tongue. He absconded with his treasures back up the stairs, making sure to be just as quiet on his return journey. His room was at the far end of the hall and he stalked towards the door with purpose, thrilled with his successful heist.

He was savoring his victory when a garbled noise stopped him in his tracks. He listened again, trying to determine the source of the noise. Wilde talked in his sleep sometimes and his room was the right direction to be the source of the sound. Carter knew Wilde had horrendous nightmares, even with the cuffs. He crept closer to Wilde’s room, keeping close to the wall. A series of whimpers, softer than the initial noise that had startled Carter, floated to his ears. 

The sliding door to Wilde’s room didn’t close all the way. There was a small gap between it and the frame with which one could get a good view of the room if you stood at precisely the right angle. Carter knew the angle, because he prided himself in knowing such things. It was only practical. Any self respecting thief would have come by the same knowledge. 

Zolf usually woke when Wilde had bad nightmares. They shared a wall and Zolf usually heard him first. That was the excuse, anyway. Carter wasn’t stupid, he saw the way they looked at each other, though they seemed determined not to do anything about it. The whimpering got louder until it sounded like Wilde was moaning in...pain? Carter peeked into the room. If Zolf hadn’t been woken up by the noise yet and Carter could see Wilde thrashing, he would go in and wake him up. 

He almost dropped one of his muffins. As it was he nearly choked on the bite he was in the middle of swallowing. He had certainly not been in any way, shape, or form, prepared for the sight that greeted him. The first thing that registered was that Wilde was not alone. There was a figure bent over him, grunting softly and Carter immediately recognized it as Zolf. Wilde was laid out beneath him, on his stomach, wrists tied together out in front of him, hands fisted in a pillow. Sex, they were having sex. Zolf and Wilde were  _ fucking _ . 

Oh, but he should really leave. His feet were like lead and would not obey his command to move. He took another bite of muffin. 

Zolf snapped his hips forward and Wilde moaned. It was quiet, stifled, and Carter realized that there was cloth in his mouth, keeping him quiet. Wilde tilted his hips back as Zolf pulled away, whining and tryingto get closer. Carter suddenly felt incredibly light headed as all the blood in his body rushed between his legs. Zolf ran a hand over the tantalizing length of Wilde’s exposed back, soothing and firm and Wilde arched into it. 

“Shhh,” Zolf whispered. “Just relax.” 

Zolf gripped a hip in one hand and kneaded the other into the muscles of Wilde’s back as he thrust slowly forwards again, so slowly Carter’s dick pulsed with sympathy for Wilde. It was so tender and it made Carter ache with want. Apparently that was what did it for him nowadays. Tenderness. Who would have guessed. 

Carter watched with rapt attention as Zolf brought his hips flush to the swell of Wilde’s arse, bent low over him as he whined and pressing a kiss against his back, which Carter now realized was covered with little droplets of sweat. He resisted the urge to palm himself through his trousers as he tried to guess at how long they could have been at this. 

Zolf stayed there for a moment, buried and still, carding his fingers through Wilde’s hair and whispering low enough that Carter couldn’t hear. They were so fucking familiar, so intimate in such a comfortable way that it confused him. They almost never touched that Carter observed, and they were restrained, held back when they talked to each other. They must not do this often. It must have been a kind of stress relief they gave into when it got too much. Now that Carter thought about it, Zolf had just gotten out of quarantine a day ago. And Wilde had been so painfully tense the whole time that Carter’s back had ached in sympathy with how rigid he’d been.

Zolf started working his hips faster, gradually increasing his pace and kneading one of Wilde’s arse cheeks. Carter stuffed another bite of muffin in his mouth to keep himself quiet. Zolf snapped his hips harder and faster and Wilde’s muffled cries grew in urgency. Wilde pushed his hips back to meet Zolf’s, grinding them in desperate little circles. Zolf smacked his arse.

“Oi, none of that, I do the work here, remember?” And Zolf pinned his hips down and redoubled his efforts, pounding into him and Wilde made sweet little noises of pleasure and need around his gag. 

Carter swallowed dryly. Water, he needed some water. And to go back to his room and take care of the ache in his own pants, but he wanted to know how this ended.

Zolf kept Wilde still, strong hands wrapped around his too-prominent hip bones. Wilde’s body was moved by the force of every hard thrust of the dwarve’s hips. His hands scrabbled in the sheets and he turned his head to the side, gazing up at Zolf with an adoration Carter hadn’t known he was capable of. 

“Look at you.” Zolf’s voice was reverent, and so full of affection it almost made Carter swoon.

Gods he wanted to be ravished, wanted someone to hold him down and fuck him until his only option was blissful relaxation. Zolf tapped at Wilde’s hip and Wilde titled his arse up obediently, giving Zolf enough space to presumably get a hand around his cock—Carter couldn’t see from his vantage point. 

“Are you ready?” 

Wilde nodded, head still turned to gaze up at Zolf, half of his face presses into the rumpled sheets. Carter couldn’t be sure, but he thought Wilde might be drooling. Gods why was that so fucking hot. A few moments later Wilde’s whole body spasmed with the force of his orgasm. Zolf groaned and pulled out, stroking himself off and keeping eye contact with Wilde while he came, painting Wilde’s back with his spend. 

Carter slunk off as Zolf moved to untie Wilde’s wrists. He’d seen enough. More than enough. Breakfast was going to be very awkward in the morning. In fact, Carter might skip breakfast altogether. He made it back to his room and shut the door as quietly as he could manage in his current hyper-aroused state. He’d forgotten how difficult it was to be stealthy with a raging boner. He was equal measures startled and delighted to discover he still had a muffin in one hand. He set it on the bedside table and set about undoing his trousers and fumbling around in a drawer for some oil. He smiled to himself; at least he’d have a snack to look forward to when he was finished. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it, feel free to let me know what you thought. 🖤


End file.
